


Finally Feel Alive

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Motorcycles, generation-kill: 1st fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad doesn't tell him anything. He doesn't tell him not too lean to far in the turns, though he figures that out on the second one, and he doesn't tell him to tuck his hands into Brad's coat pockets, though after fifteen minutes at speeds Nate doesn't want to think about, it's the only option to keep his hands from going numb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally Feel Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oxoniensis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxoniensis/gifts).



> Originally posted here in response to oxoniensis's prompt: Brad/Nate, Brad takes Nate for his first bike ride. Un'beta'd, but cleaned up since original posting.

Three days after they get back to Oceanside, Nate wakes up to someone in his apartment. No one has a key. He hadn't left one with a neighbor when he left, because he didn't have any plants that needed keeping alive, and he'd switched the locks and never given the landlord a new copy. His family is too far away to ever need one, even if any of them were inclined to come and visit him.

What it boils down to is that, when his subconscious realizes that there is someone else there, Nate's eyes flash open and his body tenses, his hands shifting for weapons that aren't laying beside him. When the intruder makes it to his bedroom doorway, he rolls away from the door and lands on the floor in a crouch.

"LT?"

Everything in him relaxes at the sound. He knows that voice, and now that he can process more than the fact that his weapons weren't beside him, he can tell the shape in the doorway is, truly, one Brad Colbert.

This boils through the fog that's settled over him for the last few days, his body memory making him look for things and people that aren't there, making him grope for weapons in lockup on base, making him feel underdressed even when he'd fully clothed.

"What the hell, Brad?" he growls, though it's quiet. Soft, like there is someone around to disturb, even though there isn't.

"Sorry, LT. Just came to see if you were up to a race through the desert," the Brad-shaped shadow in the door way says. He's shifting, clearly not sure what to do with Nate hiding behind the bed.

Nate stands up and heads around the bed. Brad's shifting stops.

"A race through the desert?"

"On my bike," Brad clarifies.

Nate has never ridden on a motorcycle. But his adrenaline is running from this early morning encounter and Brad had wanted him to come along bad enough to break into his apartment at… 0545, the clock tells him.

"I…" he starts, but doesn't know how to finish.

"I have a helmet for you," Brad tells him, raising an eyebrow.

Nate glances over at the clock again. 0546. He's not going back to sleep, not now.

"Okay."

Brad tells him to wear jeans and a jacket. He doesn't have leather, but a Carhart shell gets a nod of approval from Brad. Nate offers him a protein shake before they leave, and Brad takes it, though he makes a face of disgust when he downs it.

Brad gets on the bike first. Nate hesitates for a second before he gets on behind him, and then for another before he settles his hands on Brad's sides.

"Gonna have to be closer than that, LT," Brad tells him, reaching back and grabbing his left thigh, yanking him forward until he's snug up against Brad's back. "Hang on."

Nate can't help but return the grin Brad throws him over his shoulder, even if he really has no idea what to expect. Brad faces forward, revs the engine loud enough that someone in the complex will probably file a complaint, and then they're shooting out of the parking lot.

Brad doesn't tell him anything. He doesn't tell him not too lean to far in the turns, though he figures that out on the second one, and he doesn't tell him to tuck his hands into Brad's coat pockets, though after fifteen minutes at speeds Nate doesn't want to think about, it's the only option to keep his hands from going numb.

Nate turns his head, tucking his helmet against Brad's shoulder and watching as they start to leave civilization behind. He recognizes where they're going at some point, figures out their on the 10 and headed towards Phoenix.

Brad doesn't stop for hours. They're not actually all the way to Phoenix when he does, but they're close. They cut the usual travel time down by a considerable amount, but Nate doesn't say anything about it.

They're at a reststop in the middle of a desert in the middle of the day. Nate takes off his helmet and unzips his coat, leaving them both with the bike. He stretches as he walks a few feet, his body used to riding long distances in vehicles, but not curled up like that.

Brad looks so alive, though, and Nate can't regret coming, not with the look Brad is giving him. It's hot and full of something Nate can't name and worth every second he spent on the bike.

Brad takes a couple of steps towards him, until their bodies are just shy of touching. He reaches out, like he's going to grab onto Nate, then starts to let his hand drop.

"No," Nate grinds out, and Brad pauses, like he's not sure what Nate is saying no to. "No," Nate tries again, softer. "Com're."

Brad takes the last step forward, and in the middle of the Arizona desert under the hot midday sun, Nate leans up and catches Brad's mouth in a kiss.

Nate feels alive.


End file.
